


All Things Devours

by littlerhymes



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Reverse Chronology, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerhymes/pseuds/littlerhymes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wish is impulsively made, the sun rises in the west, and a dragon comes to life; or, a story written in reverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Devours

**Author's Note:**

> I've mostly kept to the book, but I've also included some movie elements and played fast and loose with certain aspects of Middle-Earth canon. 
> 
> Many thanks to proteinscollide for beta-reading and patiently listening to me complain. :)

When it was clear that Smaug was settling down nicely - all curled up under the mountain on his pile of gold - and the people of Lake-town had built their town quite to standard, Thorin declared it was time for the Company to begin their journey.

Being fond of his warm bed at the inn and five square meals a day, Bilbo was a little reluctant to trade the comforts of Lake-town for the rigours of the road. Kili put an end to that when he was heard to wistfully say to his brother, in Bilbo's earshot, "that he was looking forward to finally meeting their mother and growing young with her." After that, a chastened Bilbo packed up his bag without another word and so the Company was off.

But very soon it was the dwarves' turn to drag their feet. "You are certain, burglar," Thorin said, eyeing the barrels dubiously, "that there is no better way to pass through the Mirkwood?"

"It's a little unofficial, I'll grant you," Bilbo admitted, "but unless you wish to lose the better part of a month in the walking, this is the fastest way." He looked around at all the woebegone dwarven faces impatiently. "Well?" he demanded. "Are you getting in or not? Or can be it be that such a fine band of adventurers are afraid of a little bit of wet?"

This was exactly the right thing to say: everyone still grumbled and complained of being queasy just from looking at the river, but it was obvious that their pride had been hurt and Bilbo was soon sealing the (rather gloomy, green-faced) dwarves into their straw-packed barrels. Then he rolled the barrels to the river's edge and one by one pushed them into the water. Each barrel bobbed by the shore for a little while, before quickly gaining speed and floating up the river towards the forests.

As there was then no one left to help Bilbo pack himself into a barrel, he simply chose a small-ish one, wrapped his arms around it, and dubiously waded into the water. From the shore the river had looked quite calm and slow, but he soon found that this was deceptive. No sooner was he waist-deep then the current began to grab hold of him, and he had only enough time to think _oh dear_ , before the river swept the barrel upstream with poor Bilbo hanging on for dear life.

*

Perhaps you are wondering how a hobbit came to be in the company of thirteen dwarves. It began, as so many things do, with a dragon.

If you have never encountered dragons before, it is best to consider them as a sort of long term investment. They require a great deal of patience and before it reaches immaturity you may need to practice some household economy, but in the end you will find yourself benefiting from a sizable increase in capital.

Of course, most people haven't the time or the resources to cultivate a dragon; otherwise, everyone would have one.

It is no easy task to take up a dragon. Firstly, a hero must be found to bring the beast to life. In cases where a suitable hero cannot be found, a small army may be required. In this case, Bard of Dale had offered up his services promptly as soon as Thorin had put out an advertisement so that was alright.

Secondly, to keep the dragon comfortable, you must select an appropriate area and gather a sizable treasure, for they will only settle down to nest where the land is quite blighted and they have a magnificent hoard to sleep upon.

Thorin had required a great deal of assistance with this part and for this reason he had convened the Summit of Five Nations. In addition to all the vast wealth of Thorin and his people, the Men of Dale brought many barrows of treasure, and the Elvenking Thranduil gave up the emeralds of Girion amongst other precious heirlooms. 

Still, there had been much debate as to whether their collection had been sufficient. As the dragon in the Lake grew flesh on his bones daily and it became clear that his time was imminent, this had become a matter of pressing concern; after all, there is no point going to the trouble of getting a dragon if you can't convince it to stay.

It was at this point in the story that our hobbit entered the scene.

*

Those who know of hobbits say they are a comfortable, stay-at-home kind of people, for whom an adventure would be more likely to involve a daring raid to plant mushrooms on a neighbour's fallow field, rather than packing dwarves into barrels or sneaking into the Mirkwood.

But Bilbo Baggins was no ordinary hobbit. 

In Erebor, he had boldly approached Thorin in his own hall without so much as a by-your-leave, and it is more than likely that Thorin would have ordered him tossed out on his ear had Bilbo not produced from his pocket the most prized of all that kingdom's legendary treasures: the Arkenstone. At the sight of that famed jewel, Dwalin cursed aloud, Ori dropped his book with a thud, and Thorin himself rose half-way from his throne. 

"How did you come by that stone, Halfling?" Thorin demanded. 

Bilbo only smiled. "Does a wizard tell all his secrets? No more than a burglar reveals all his tricks." He slipped the Arkenstone back into his pocket; and with its radiance suddenly hidden, even the very light from the lamps seemed to fade. "Now then," Bilbo said briskly, rubbing his hands. "Let's settle on some terms. Firstly, I believe you have a problem with a dragon, correct?"

It was eventually agreed that Bilbo would hand over the Arkenstone to Thorin, for dragon-taming or any other use as he saw fit; and in return the dwarves would escort Mr Baggins to The Shire on their way to Ered Luin, including the cost of miscellaneous travelling expenses and sundries, such as accommodation and loss of luggage.

"Very well, Mr Baggins, these terms are acceptable to us," Thorin said at last. "Welcome to the Company."

"Delighted, I'm sure," Bilbo said, just as though he was at a tea party.

They shook hands to seal their agreement, each secretly thinking he had made the better end of the bargain.

*

Following Bilbo's contribution of the Arkenstone, the Company's fears were allayed and the success of the quest was assured. 

Smaug settled down very happily under the Mountain as soon Bard the Bowman had drawn the arrow from his chest. This also had the nice side-effect of clearing up the Lake, which the people of Dale liked so much that they promptly moved out of town and built all their houses on the water.

At this point, the Company decided it was time to return home, for there was nothing to be done for a century at the least and the people of Lake-town had agreed to take care of necessary maintenance in the meantime. 

Dragons are suitable only for the patient investor, for it is necessary to wait until the dragon reaches a sufficiently immature age or hears of an even larger treasure, at which point it will fly away and your work is done. This process can take many hundreds of years, so it is no wonder that the shorter-lived races often prefer not to deal with dragons at all. At the time this tale is told however, it was just becoming fashionable amongst Elves and especially Dwarves to set up dragon deposits and this is precisely why Thorin and Company had been dispatched to the Lonely Mountain.

Once you have successfully seen off your dragon, you will see at once that your effort has been worthwhile. For the once-blighted lands where a dragon has recently departed instantly become green and fertile, and any poisoned rivers become clean and clear, so very soon farmers, grocers, bakers and so on will be drawn to live there. Then there is the matter of the treasure - miners will come from miles around to bury the dragon's jewels deep beneath the earth, while the smiths set to work melting the gold necklaces and cups into ingots and thence into nuggets, and so forth. It is common for whole cities to spring up within days of a dragon's departure.

One day, Thorin and the Company would be returning to Erebor with their families, to reap the benefits of the investment they had made, and it would be in no small part thanks to Bilbo and his Arkenstone.

*

We return now to the hobbit and the dwarves in their barrels, borne uphill by the river and rushing towards the great forests of the Mirkwood.

In time the river divided and one part became a stream, and it was this stream that carried the dwarves in their barrels to an underground water-gate, beneath the very palace where the Elvenking dwelled.

After unpacking themselves in the cellars, Bilbo and the dwarves were weary and eager to gain lodging for the night. They assumed that they would quickly run into someone who could assist them, or at least ask them "who are you and what do you want?" But to their astonishment, and despite hearing distant voices and footsteps, the palace seemed locked-up and virtually abandoned. Each time they entered a room or turned a corner, the Elves within would have just exited - it was quite uncanny. "So much for the famed hospitality of the Wood-elves!" Thorin said at last, thoroughly exasperated. 

In short order, the Company found a set of small passages dotted with doors, each of which opened up on a room containing a pallet and little else. Unwelcoming though these seemed, the dwarves quickly agreed they would each take one to pass the night.

Only Bilbo piped up with any objections. "I really don't think this is such a good idea," Bilbo tried to say. "Don't you think you ought to let me find someone to talk to before you do anything rash? Oh, confound the stubbornness of dwarves!"

The only one who paid any attention to him at all was Dori, who merely patted his shoulder and said, "Well, Mr Baggins, I can't say I think much of their guest rooms either. The ones in my house are much nicer, but beggars can't be choosers. Goodnight!" 

Then Dori closed the door and in that moment realised what every other dwarf had also just discovered, which was that the doors had no handles on the insides. For of course each of those little rooms was in fact a gaol cell, and the dwarves had locked themselves inside.

*

It was some time before Bilbo could gain an audience with the Elvenking. This was a miserable period in which Bilbo crept around the palace, utterly ignored. His only occupation was the passing of messages between the dwarves, who were all understandably wretched and rather embarrassed by their blunder. 

But in the end it took only a little explaining to clear up the situation. After Bilbo had finally been admitted to Thranduil's audience and begged the Company's pardon, explaining they had truly only been seeking shelter for the night, they were set free. By then the Company were as quite eager to be gone as the Elves were to be rid of them. 

Firstly, however, Thranduil summoned Thorin and Bilbo to a private audience. The Elvenking's gaze was piercing as he began to question Bilbo on the exact nature of his quest, for it seemed to him a strange bargain indeed that the hobbit would give up the Arkenstone for such a paltry reward.

Bilbo protested, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Not at all! The truth is rather boring, I'm afraid - you see, I've a hankering to settle down and write my memoirs. I am beginning to feel rather too _young_ for a life of adventure. Safe passage to the Shire is more than enough for me."

"I can find no reason to doubt your words," Thranduil said at last, "but there is something about your journey that troubles me nonetheless. I fear you carry a dark secret with you, Mr Baggins. Take care that you take it with you when you depart, and bear it far beyond the borders of my land."

Bilbo, rather shaken, only nodded and bowed. As he straightened up, he realised his hand had strayed, unbidden, towards his pocket... he flushed and snatched it away immediately. Fortunately, Thranduil had already turned his attention to Thorin and did not notice.

"Thorin, son of Thror," the Elvenking said, "since you bear no sword at your side, I present to you this blade. It is named Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver."

"This is a princely weapon, your majesty, and a most unexpected gift," Thorin said, much more respectful now than he had been only a few moments ago, when he had been scowling in anticipation of an interrogation. "But I cannot accept, for I have nothing to offer in return."

"Orcrist was entrusted to me only to hold in waiting for your arrival, Thorin Oakenshield," Thranduil said. "Bear it well, for it is in my mind that this sword is doomed to be borne in many battles before it is forged."

Bowing deeply, Thorin accepted the gift. So he and Bilbo departed the palace of the Elvenking - one well pleased, and the other quietly troubled.

*

If Thorin had thought Thranduil's dungeons would be the worst of it, he soon changed his mind. If they weren't being dropped by eagles into the tops of burning trees, they were chasing wolves or wrestling giant spiders or pushing Bombur into rivers. The only respite from danger was their brief sojourn at Beorn's hall, where Gandalf the Grey rejoined their party. 

Finally, after enough adventures to more than fill the pages of a hobbit's memoirs, they came to the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo had been dreading the Mountains for some time, growing inwardly more nervous as he drew closer to the task at hand. When the Company took a brief halt with the foothills well in sight, Bilbo screwed up his courage and seized his chance. He put the Ring on his finger, becoming invisible, and hurried away. He thought quite rightly that it would be some time before his absence was noted and even longer before they picked up on his trail. By then he hoped to be well on his way in the tunnels beneath the Misty Mountains.

The tunnels were full of twists and turns, where the unwary and unfamiliar might find themselves at any moment trapped in a dead-end passage, or teetering on the edge of a sheer cliff-face, or confronted with a swarm of bloodthirsty goblins. Despite being a stranger to those unwelcoming places, Bilbo's feet never faltered.

The eerie thought occurred to him, as he hurried along, that it did not really matter if he turned left or right, if he chose the tunnel leading upwards or down. Whichever way he went, his steps could only lead him to his destination - just as a river must keep to its course and the stars must travel in their paths across the sky, Bilbo's story had already been written. All he could do was to trace his own inevitable steps.

Down, down, down he went, until Bilbo came at last to that place where even goblins were afraid to venture and the creature called Gollum waited in the dark. On the banks of that deep, still lake, he drew his long dagger with a trembling hand and challenged Gollum to a riddle game.

"What's this, what's this, _gollum_?" Gollum hissed, his eyes big and round and pale in the darkness. "So it wants to play a game, precious?"

"Yes, that's it," Bilbo said, his dagger shaking only slightly. "A riddle game, yes! And if I win, then you'll let me go. And if you win... I'll give you a present."

"A present, precious?" Gollum paddled closer. He was suspicious, for he had never been given a present. Indeed all he knew was hunger, and loneliness, and the unceasing dark. He lunged forward, his pointed teeth gleaming. "What _kind_ of present? Is it soft? Is it tasty? Is it _wriggling_ , precious, is it?"

"Now, now," Bilbo squeaked, backing up a step. "That would be telling, wouldn't it? But first you must give the riddle to my answer."

So the game began. The pair were well matched and they traded riddles in quick succession. Bilbo's answers were about all the things hobbits love, like sunlight and eggs and flowers. Childish though they were, these tested Gollum mightily, for he was a creature of the underground. Still, as Bilbo had both feared and expected, Gollum recalled just enough of the world above to give the riddles correctly.

Gollum's answers were naturally all mountains, wind, darkness, and the like. How small and how miserable his life must be, Bilbo thought, how utterly devoid of any joy or beauty; and he fingered the Ring hidden in his pocket, his mind heavy on the outcome of the game.

When it was Bilbo's turn again, the final turn, he knew what he must do. What he _had_ to do - what he _had done_ \- for was it not the wish he had made, in the fields of Dale? Had he not known that every step in his journey led to this moment, when he must give up this most precious and lovely of treasures?

The Ring lay heavy in the palm of his hand. He knew that if he brought it forth, it would shine so very beautifully, even in the dim light of the cavern. So beautiful and so precious... Far too precious, he thought suddenly, to give to a creature as wretched and vile as Gollum. Suddenly his mind was made up. His hand, hidden in his pocket, curled into a fist.

"The answer," Gollum hissed, for he had hesitated too long, "you must give us the answer, hobbitses! Give us the answer now or I'll-" But he never finished his sentence, for at that moment Bilbo vanished from his sight and Gollum fell to the ground, as though struck by an invisible swordhilt.

Bilbo scrambled desperately back into the tunnels, not daring to look back to see if Gollum pursued him. All his certainty had fled - going into the Mountain, he had known there could be no end to his path except Gollum's lair - but the story was now unravelling, for he had done something shameful and kept the Ring for himself, and he knew not if his feet would lead him now to daylight or to his death. 

*

"...eleven, twelve, thirteen dwarves. But where is our hobbit? What has Bilbo Baggins done with himself?" Gandalf said back at the Company's campsite, very cross and surprised.

An exhaustive search of the camp turned up only Bilbo's footprints, headed in the direction of the mountains. The perplexing thing was that his trail showed he had walked away seemingly in plain sight, without any attempt to conceal his departure, and yet no-one had noticed a thing. 

Making great haste, Gandalf and the dwarves followed the tracks to the foothills, halting at the mouth of the tunnel that Bilbo had entered. Dwarves are naturally at home in underground places but even they took pause at the unknown darkness that lay within.

"Bilbo would not have abandoned us, and nor can we abandon him," Thorin said at last, his voice heavy. "We must find him. Our debt to him stands until we have delivered him safely home."

"Then we must follow him even under the mountains," Gandalf said. He drew his blade Glamdring and his look was very grave as he held the gaze of each of the companions in turn. "My friends, you must ready yourselves for the worst, for the goblins took these mountains long ago and all the ways are guarded now."

Thorin grimly unsheathed his own sword Orcrist and strode into the tunnels, and the Company followed close on his heels down into the dark.

*

On any other day, Bilbo would have been very annoyed to hurtle into a dwarf at full tilt, as they are usually encased in armour and sturdy as trees. But under the circumstances - that is, with goblins hot on his heels - he hugged Bofur gladly, stubbed toes and bruised ribs and all.

"Steady on, Bilbo!" Bofur said, beaming from ear to ear. Then everyone was crowding around in the narrow tunnel, and Thorin even clasped him on the shoulder and gruffly said, "Mr Baggins," which Bilbo correctly interpreted as being almost as good as a hug, coming from him.

"But where did you _go_?" Kili said loudly, sounding rather aggrieved. "What did you think you were _doing_?"

The dwarves fell silent all at once and Bilbo, who had been dreading the inevitable question, stammered and pulled at the collar of his shirt. "Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Well, you see..."

Luckily he was saved, if you can call it that, by Gandalf's announcement. "If I may interrupt, I suggest that Mr Baggins save any explanations for later, for I'm afraid we have some goblins approaching us quite rapidly. In fact - _run!_ "

Many hours of horrendously dangerous adventure followed, mostly consisting of fighting with or running away from goblins. At least he didn't have to explain to anyone about why he had gone into the Mountains, Bilbo thought to himself - though this sort of reflection seems rather cold comfort when you are being hauled in chains before the Great Goblin.

The Company at last won through, escaping the tunnels and emerging in a cave on the far side of the Misty Mountains. Gandalf sealed the cracks of the mountain behind them so the goblins could not continue their pursuit, and for the first time in what felt like days the Company came to a rest. They had managed to snag some stray ponies - "they were probably destined for the stew pots, the poor creatures," Bombur said - as well some foodstuffs and other useful items as they fled, so they were reasonably well-provisioned for the first time since leaving Beorn's Hall.

Outside a terrible storm was howling through the mountain passes, but tucked inside the cave they were quite warm and dry. Exhausted and weary, most of the Company fell asleep immediately. Soon it was only Gandalf, who had taken the first watch, and Bilbo who were still awake.

"Gandalf," Bilbo said hesitantly, sitting beside him. "I have something to tell you about why I ran away into the mountains. But I couldn't explain it in front of the others, you see."

Gandalf had been puffing on his pipe, breathing in smoke rings and looking very fierce and distant. But he turned then and smiled at Bilbo quite kindly. "Well, you gave us all a dreadful fright and I can't say that I enjoyed our audience with the Great Goblin whatsoever; but I know you, Bilbo Baggins, and I know you would not have done it without some good cause."

Bilbo only shivered and pulled his blanket a little more tightly around his shoulders, looking miserable. 

"Bilbo?" Gandalf said. He raised his brows questioningly. "Surely, my dear fellow, it can't be so bad."

"I'm afraid it is, Gandalf," Bilbo said at last, in a very small voice, as he reached into his pocket.

*

After long weeks of travel, the Company came to Rivendell. The dwarves gratefully took their ease after their long journey, but Gandalf and Bilbo were given no chance to rest, as Elrond summoned them almost immediately. 

Gandalf nodded at Bilbo welcomingly as he nervously took a seat at the stone table, but Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel both seemed very proud and distant and beautiful to Bilbo.

"Mithrandir," Elrond said without preamble, "you have summoned us here today, saying there could be no delay on this matter. What can be of such urgent concern?"

Before Gandalf could begin, the Lady's voice came to him without warning. _Greetings, Bilbo Baggins_ , said Galadriel, mind to mind, her glittering eyes seeming to pierce deep into Bilbo's very soul. _Is this not your tale to tell?_ He found himself nodding jerkily.

Galadriel held up a white hand, and Gandalf stayed silent. "Speak, Master Baggins," she said. "We are listening."

"Well, well, you see," Bilbo stammered. "You see, it was some weeks ago that I -" He stopped himself abruptly and looked down at his hands, flushing. "No, wait. Maybe I mean, it will be in some weeks to come? Either it's all already happened or it will all happen again and..."

Gandalf's eyes glinted; Elrond looked puzzled; and Galadriel sat very, very still.

Bilbo swallowed, and then he set his shoulders. He looked up from his hands and his voice was steady now as he said, "Let me begin again."

*

It began in Dale where five armies had battled themselves to victory and defeat, and a hobbit came to pay his respects to a dying King.

Bilbo, having been struck down in the heat of the battle himself, was discovered and brought to Thorin almost too late. He was then already near to death, but with his final breaths Thorin repented of his angry words, forgiving his burglar and parting from Bilbo in friendship.

"Farewell, good thief," he said, the light in his eyes already fading. "Farewell!"

So Thorin, King under the Mountain, went to the halls of his fathers while Bilbo wept over the hand that grew slack and cold in his own.

There, the story should have ended, with Bilbo kissing the cold hand and saying "Farewell!" Then he might have gone away to weep by himself a little, before pulling himself together and seeking the surviving members of the Company.

He might have stayed with the dwarves in Erebor for a time as they rebuilt their city, before taking his leave with Gandalf and returning home to the Shire. He could have settled down, and written books, and told stories to his cousins and his nephew, and from time to time remembered the great adventure he once had undertaken. There would be moments when he would remember Thorin and Fili and Kili, and sometimes he would weep, but sometimes he would smile, too, remembering. He might have grown old...

But none of those things happened.

For Bilbo felt very far in that moment from any kind voice or familiar face, very far and very distant indeed - and in the depths of his great grief, it seemed to him an unbearable injustice that he would never again hear Thorin's voice, or Fili and Kili laughing and teasing one another. It seemed impossibly unfair that the countless brave dwarves and elves and men who had laid down their lives in the battle would never again draw breath or smile or return to their families.

 _Oh, if only there was a way,_ whispered a little voice within Bilbo as he clung to Thorin's hand, his tears falling thick and fast.

_If only I could bring him back to life, and we could all go home in peace, as if none of this had ever happened!_

Almost without realising it, without any thought at all, his other hand had crept into his pocket. His hand clutched and found the cool, perfect shape of the Ring; and as he wept, and wished, the Ring slipped onto his finger and-

.  
.  
.

-and the Ring slipped off his finger.

And Bilbo kissed a slowly warming hand.

And Thorin breathed, and stirred, and lived.

And Fili rose and turned to his brother, and helped him up to his feet.

And the Eagles flew to their eyries in the Misty Mountains.

And all across Dale and Ravenhill, elves and men and dwarves and goblins sat up from where they lay, with the blood streaming back into their wounds; and they stood and touched the sharp edges of their swords and axes to one another's sides to seal up the gaping edges of their torn flesh, before turning their backs and marching home.

And the clocks turned backwards, and the rivers streamed uphill, and the morning sun began its slow descent into the East.

And the Ring glittered, lovely and perfect and unchanging, in the palm of Bilbo's hand.

*

As Bilbo fell silent, he reached into his pocket and then held out the Ring before the three mightiest of the White Council, trembling as he did so. For if they had seemed proud and distant before he began to speak, now they seemed terrible and mighty and stern indeed as they fixed their gaze upon him and the Ring in turn.

"It is unnatural - impossible," Elrond said. "This cannot be!"

"No," Gandalf said immediately. "No, for if this Ring is the One, then all things are made possible."

"Much is made clear now," Galadriel said slowly, her eyes wide. "Have we not sensed that something was greatly amiss these past months? The One Ring had clouded my sight, but I can see now, both the path before us and the one that stretches behind."

 _The One Ring._ Bilbo shivered. In the cave in the mountains, when he had first confessed all, Gandalf had told him of the foretold One Ring that would lend its power to the rise of a Dark Lord, who in turn would usher in the age of one still more terrible.

"Surely," Elrond said, frowning, "even if what you say is true, time is on our side. Hundreds of years must surely pass before the Ring brings the Enemy to power. We could keep the Ring - keep it secret and destroy it before such matters came to pass."

Gandalf shook his head. "Even if we dared risk the temptation, I fear the Ring will seize its chance now. If what Bilbo says is correct, then already it hastens the course of the future and seeks to return to its master.

"The Ring _should_ have passed into the hands of the creature Gollum. Instead, it has chosen a new bearer. Rather than one who must cower in the dark fearing the very sight of the sun, it has chosen one still young and hale. One whose path may cross with those of the Enemy's allies sooner rather than later. One whose sense of adventure might even be used to persuade him to take the Ring into the very realm of the Enemy."

Bilbo, feeling very young and very foolish, shrank in his seat before their clear, unflinching gaze.

"We cannot allow the Ring to pass into the Enemy's hands," Galadriel said, and their eyes mercifully drew away from Bilbo. "But it cannot remain in our keeping."

There was a long silence then as their eyes flickered back and forth, and it seemed to Bilbo that they must be communing mind to mind.

Bilbo fidgeted nervously as the silence drew out longer and longer. Left to his own thoughts, all he could think was, _why oh why, you silly hobbit, did you make that stupid wish and get us all into this bother?_ But then he would recall the warm regard of Thorin's eyes, and the laughter of the two brothers, and he could not regret what he had done... But had he not, then all this trouble could have been avoided! And so his thoughts circled and circled, chasing one another until Elrond broke the quiet at last.

"Yes," Elrond said, his expression still troubled. "Yes, it seems this is the only path we can take."

"Then we are agreed," Gandalf said. He rose to his feet, sweeping his long robes out of the way, and Galadriel and Elrond rose also. Hastily, Bilbo too scrambled down from his seat. He looked upwards at their three grave faces; he had never felt smaller. 

"We have considered, Master Baggins," Elrond said. "What the Ring has done, we believe must be un-done. The flow of time has been turned, so we must turn it again, and send it back along its true course." 

"So you're sending me back?" Bilbo said. He swallowed, thinking of Thorin's cold hand and the bloodied fields of Dale. "Into the future, I mean? But how?"

"We will aid you, for we too are Ring-bearers," Galadriel said, and she raised her hand - the gem she bore was radiant as a star. "But the choice is truly yours, Bilbo, and we can only accomplish this task if you are willing." Her gaze was questioning.

Slowly Bilbo shook his head. "No," he said, thinking again of his companions who were even now nearby in Rivendell, eating and drinking, happy and living and safe. "No, I can't. You - you're asking me to send them back _to their deaths._ " 

"Bilbo," Gandalf began.

"What's more," he continued, working himself up now, "how do we know that the future won't be even worse? I've already changed the course of events once, and we could change it again. Maybe there won't _be_ a Dark Lord. Maybe, well, we could stop him. We know what's going to happen, so we can _change_ it. We can - we could-" 

"My dear fellow," Gandalf said very kindly, his hand clasping Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo faltered and fell silent. "None of us wish for our friends and companions to die. Yet you know, Bilbo, that it's not as simple as that. 

"If we do nothing, then you and your friends will surely live, until you return to the moments of your births. It will be a strange life, an unnatural life, in which the sun rises in the west and sets in the east - but yes, it will be a life."

Bilbo looked down at the Ring in his hand. If he let the wheel continue to spin backwards - would it really be so bad, a little voice whispered, if he simply let it happen? If he lived out the long summer years of his youth that still remained to him, and let the White Council or someone else take care of the Ring when he was gone? Was it not all worth it, if only Thorin lived, and his nephews could return to their family?

"But those peaceful times will not last, Bilbo," Gandalf continued, "for just as surely, the Ring will find its master and a dark age will fall upon Middle-Earth, perhaps even sooner rather than later. The Ring works towards only one purpose. As long as we allow its power to twist and pervert the course of events, there can be only one conclusion to this tale."

"But if we don't allow it?" Bilbo said at last. "If I - if time goes forward again? How do know it will turn out any better?"

"We do not, my friend," Gandalf said, and he smiled ruefully. "For none of us have been granted the wisdom to know what will be. But as long as there are good people in this world and as long we can make the choice to do what is right - why, then there is hope."

Hope. It seemed such a small and flimsy thing to set against the Ring's whispered promises of safety, certainty, a future that receded to a known and finite point. Such a fragile thing compared to the grim unknown of a world in which he would never meet Thorin and Fili and Kili again, and all the brave and resurrected dead of Dale and Ravenhill would return to their graves... 

Bilbo thought again of his dear friends, for whom he had first made this unthinking wish, and blinked back tears - for he had already decided, in his sensible hobbit way, what was the only right thing to do. Indeed a part of him had known it since the moment he struck Gollum down in the caves beneath the mountains, and perhaps even before then.

What Bilbo actually said aloud was, "Oh very well, since I got us all into this mess in the first place, I suppose I had better get us out of it." 

He reached up to squeeze the hand that Gandalf had placed on his shoulder, and that was the only brief comfort he dared take, for he knew to delay any further would be to weaken his resolve. Inwardly he longed to wait for one more day, one more moment to say goodbye - but he had already stolen almost six more months with Thorin and Fili and Kili than he ever ought to have had.

So Bilbo brushed off his coat and stepped into the centre of their circle. "How do we start?"

*

Mightily did the three bearers of the Elven Rings labour to aid Bilbo, who willed with all his heart to reverse what the Ring had wrought. To reverse the flow of time, why, one might as well stop an avalanche or pin down the ocean. Yet it had been done, and so could be undone.

Bilbo felt it happen - that moment when the sun itself ground to a halt in its course across the sky and the rivers ceased to flow and then - 

.  
.  
.

\- and then the sun rose from the east and made its slow ascent. And the clocks ran forward, and the rivers ran in their beds away from the mountains, downhill towards the sea.

Bilbo sighed, relieved, and began to take the Ring from his finger. But the White Council bade him wait, for their work was not yet done. 

"The tide has been turned," Elrond said, "but we would hasten it further still."

"I beg your pardon?" Bilbo said, rather confused.

"He means to say, brace yourself," Gandalf said, drily. 

For then time was moving forward - at first only a little more rapidly than usual, but then very fast indeed, like a very large rock that rolled downhill and gained thunderous momentum as it went. So in the blink of an eye, and almost as though seeing it from very far away, Bilbo found he had already packed up and left Rivendell with the rest of the Company -

\- and that they went into the Misty Mountains, where he traded riddles with Gollum, and left with the Ring upon his finger - 

\- and the Eagles flew them to the Carrock, and Beorn hosted them in his halls - 

\- and they were captured by the Elves, and escaped down the river crammed into barrels - 

\- and he snuck into the Lonely Mountain and traded witticisms with the dragon Smaug - 

\- and Smaug was struck down by Bard's arrow - 

\- and Bilbo stole the Arkenstone - 

\- and the Battle of Five Armies was fought and won - 

The flow of time began then to lose its breakneck speed. _We will leave you now, Master Baggins. Keep the Ring secret and safe,_ Elrond said, speaking mind to mind. 

Then spoke Galadriel: _What happens next, none of us can know. Fare you well, Ring-bearer, until we meet again..._

... and then he was alone by Thorin's side, after the battle, and time was again passing exactly as quickly and slowly as it ought. The King was dead, and all that the Ring had wrought had never been. 

Dazedly, Bilbo pulled off the Ring and put it into his pocket. Then he knelt by the bed of the King under the Mountain and for the second time, he wept. He wept for the death of his friend, and for Fili and Kili, and for all those who had fallen on that terrible day; and for the wish he had impulsively made, and then painstakingly un-made.

But when he was done with weeping, Bilbo dried his eyes and walked out into the day. 

It was there that Gandalf found him. For a time the two friends sat in the sun on the green grass, saying little. Gandalf pulled out his pipe and peacefully puffed away, sending smoky dragons and ships into the air.

Bilbo knew that soon he ought to seek out the others of the Company, for he longed to see his friends, and that he could make himself useful around the camp, for there were many tasks still be done in the aftermath of the battle. 

But he thought that first he would sit, and wait, and let the moment pass. He had time enough for that.

 

\- end

  
 _This thing all things devours:_  
 _Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;_  
 _Gnaws iron, bites steel;_  
 _Grinds hard stones to meal;_  
 _Slays king, ruins town;_  
 _And beats high mountain down._

\- from The Hobbit


End file.
